Why has leaving my violent husband made me so fragile?

DEAR BELThis is very painful and I have never written to a paper before, but I trust your judgment.

Exactly one year ago this week, my husband, who is 51, lost his temper. It lasted for three days and nights.

He woke up in a rage, kicked doors, slammed cupboards, shook with anger and drove unsafely in his car — sometimes with me and the children in it.

I was the focus of his anger but the children, nine and ten, witnessed it. In our 12 years together, I had never seen him in this state. I was petrified and I remained so for nine months.

'My friends don't understand why I am not 'over it' now I am settled in my new home'. Bel says: Look in the mirror and tell yourself how well you have done

When I could take no more (and on the advice of a counsellor who said it would empower me to say how I felt), I told him I was scared of him, would put up with his abusive behaviour no more and that I was going to leave.

I thought this would break the spell and he would realise the effect he was having.

But what followed was an increase in anger, deceit and abusive behaviour, which almost broke me. My husband had a breakdown, refused all help, but was referred to a psychiatric hospital.

Let me explain that I had experienced his anger on many isolated instances over the years, but nothing on this scale. I have never looked at another man and I am not aware that he was being unfaithful.

It took me eight months to get out of the home and he fought over every point of the separation agreement. I was advised twice by the police to leave immediately (and by the Citizens Advice people), but I had nowhere to go. Finally, he was arrested for breach of the peace.

Immediately, I took the children to a friend’s house and never went back. Since then, I have bought a new home, the children are settled in school and I have started a new job, which I love.

My problem is I am still struggling to be strong. My friends don’t understand why I am not ‘over it’ now I am settled in my new home.

But I feel fragile and can’t understand why I have not regained my confidence, why every day is a battleground.

I cross off each day on my calendar and say: ‘Yes, I survived!’ I know what we went through was traumatic and I should give myself time to heal but I feel ‘stuck’.

How can I move on more effectively? I am still scared of anything going wrong, of failing as a mother, saying the wrong thing to my friends. Please show me how I can feel valued for just being me?SARA

But whom do you want to value you? I understand everything about your email except that final question, which implies a need for approval from the world.

Is that because you believe that the dramatic failure of your marriage was somehow perceived by others as your fault?

Or that you feel a loss of status — which is not uncommon, when married women suddenly find themselves struggling alone?

You ask me to ‘show you’ how you can be valued, when of course you know the obvious truth: that you must do battle with the sense of failure and worthlessness and learn to value yourself.

Oh, I know that it’s easier said than done! So let us take this issue in stages, and see where we go. First, your husband’s breakdown (and its aftermath) was terrifying and left you traumatised.

These events are still very recent, and so I want you to realise that, having endured the shock, fear and anguish of what happened, as well as summoning superhuman strength to start a new life, you are left with a form of grief which is not at all easy to ‘get over’.

This is about loss: of the marriage, of family-wholeness, of the sense of who you were as a wife and mother, and of the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

Obviously, all these are interconnected and add up to a weighty psychological burden. Your friends really do need a little educating about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and about grief if they really think you can pop back to normal like a bouncy toy.

There is nothing strange or abnormal about your sense of fragility. On the contrary, I actually want you to embrace it as an essential part of your survival.

To bury these feelings would be far more damaging in the long run. You should feel proud of arriving at just the place where you are.

Look around and value it: the home, the job, and those children who love you and need you to be the best possible mother to them. Which you have been. Which you are. Look in the mirror and tell yourself how well you have done.

You cannot ‘move on more effectively’ until you truly know the geography of your new world, so value every single bit of this strange, challenging and ultimately beautiful private terrain.

Then I promise you that in six months’ time you will feel different: stronger, better, and more valued by that brave woman you see in the mirror.

The sense of being ‘stuck’ is very common, but I want you to shift the thought and think of yourself as taking very slow steps.

Yes, occasionally you feel as if there is no forward progress, but there is — every single one of those days when you congratulate yourself for surviving.

You make that sound so negative, but I see it as a positive achievement. It’s not surprising that the mud on your shoes is weighing you down, yet gradually you are gaining the strength to lift those feet, one by one, and take another step.

You need to remind yourself that you were treated very badly indeed but it was not your fault. Now the future is yours and — trust me — you are walking towards it.

Should I confront this wicked sponger?

DEAR BELA close relative appears to be in a financially abusive relationship with a colleague at her place of work. This has been going on for at least six years. Initially, it was a sexual relationship, but I believe that has now finished.

There is a large age gap, him being very much younger. Over the years he has used excuse after excuse to ask for money (on ‘loan’!), but has never made any effort to pay it back despite being asked to on a number of occasions.

The amount now runs into some thousands of pounds. He plays a cat-and-mouse game with her, or goes hot and cold according to whether she pays up or not.

He either phones her incessantly or not at all — leaving her desperate to hear from him.

He has asked that she pay him in cash, as he does not want any trace of where it came from in his account.

He is also married with children. His requests start slowly with him saying how he cannot cope and over the weeks they build up until every telephone call becomes more and more desperate. He just ‘has’ to have the money ‘because . . .’

She is married with children and grandchildren and I am concerned that if the situation continues, she may harm herself.

She is adamant that she does not want her husband told or for me to interfere in any way.

She has been to counselling, but gave it up. I have been told that if I interfere in anyway she will never talk to me again and this will have enormous implications from a family point of view.

But I am scared for her. Can you think of anything that I could do?ANITA

To ‘interfere’ or not to interfere? This is an issue, which has cropped up many times, and it’s always difficult to know what to advise.

If we accept the idea that we are all inter-connected, then what goes on in the street where you live becomes your business.

Surely most of us, knowing that somebody was being abused in whatever way, would feel a sense of duty to attempt to make things better. How much more is that the case when the person belongs to your own family?

Your relative is being blackmailed by this exploitative, greedy, deceitful and irresponsible young man, and the fact that it’s emotional blackmail makes it no less wicked than the other sort.

You think the sexual affair is over, yet you could be wrong. She could still be sexually in thrall to him, which would make it far harder for her to refuse his demands for money. Either way, he has a hold over her and she seems to be addicted to that power.

That’s an extreme way of describing her terrible weakness where he is concerned. Perhaps she ‘gave up’ the counselling because she did not want to be ‘cured’ of her terminal, doting passion.

What is to be done? She must have expressed desperation and/or demonstrated acute stress to make you feel afraid. I can’t believe you’d have written because of a minor concern — and surely that makes some sort of interference imperative?

If she did plunge into depression, or harm herself in any way, you wouldn’t forgive yourself, would you? Something has to happen to save her from herself, for — after all — her husband, children and grandchildren are being betrayed as long as this sorry situation is allowed to continue.

I feel so angry with this young man that (to be frank) a part of me would like somebody to write to his wife and let her know exactly what’s going on.

I don’t really like the idea of making an innocent woman suffer, and in any case he would probably deny everything, but it might give him a short, sharp shock. Or he could receive an unsigned letter saying this is going to happen . . .

You could write to human resources or the senior manager where they both work and let them know that this damaging behaviour is continuing and will obviously have an adverse effect on their performance.

Obviously, your relative will be furious with you if you do anything at all, but will she be able to excommunicate you for ever?

Couldn’t you let her know — with loving firmness — that if she does, you will have no alternative but to explain why to the rest of the family?

This is what is called Tough Love — and there are times when it is the only honourable way forward.

And finally... Inspired by 'ordinary' heroines

You will already have read a lot about the Daily Mail Inspirational Woman of the Year awards, but the wonderful gala evening certainly inspired me. It reminded me how I felt earlier in the autumn, at the Women of the Year lunch.

There, every guest is regarded as a ‘Woman of the Year’ — representing not only themselves but the millions of amazing, unsung women who make a difference every day.

Bel reads all letters, but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.

When I listened to the stories of the prizewinners I wished I had worn waterproof mascara.

It was the same at Monday’s gala evening.

Five films introduced us to the achievements of finalists Jeanette Orrey, Susan Belgrave, Pat Rogers, Janis Feely and (winner) Naomi Thomas, and I felt full of awe at the sheer, selfless energy of these ordinary woman who have done such extraordinary things.

I just want to pull out a few quotes from the evening, without telling you which individual they applied to:

‘She said — Right, I’m not going to let this go, I’m going to do something.’

‘I want people to grasp the idea of recovery — that you can get well.’

‘She’s a whirlwind — a person who does so much.’

‘Why worry about myself?’

‘She achieved a quiet transformation which turned into a huge movement.’

‘An idea from 40 years ago has touched countless children.’

‘Out of the very worse experience, she acted to do good.’

‘She said — I can’t really complain. Just have to get on with it.’

‘I thought — if I can just help one person . . .’

The point is, all these inspiring sentences could apply to each one of the finalists — as well as to all the Women of the Year.

As our guest Sir Bruce Forsyth said at our gala evening: ‘There are wonderful women all over the world who are achieving great things.’

It’s all about giving out — and not giving up. About facing up to difficulty, hardship, pain, grief — even death — with patience, energy, selflessness, strength.

About being determined to bring the light of goodness out of dark situations. And you know what? If those women can do it, then so can you.